DÍAZ
Captain Cortés, at last our man is found.
From two days inland, natives ferried him.
Father Olmedo greets him as we speak-
A fellow priest it seems.
CORTÉS Bring him to me. Exit Díaz.
From Cozumel to here in Yucatán,
We’ve hunted this elusive castaway.
These Indians hustle us from shore to shore,
And, when their gifts of jade fail, toss us rocks.
ALVARADO
Their dizzying synthesis of amity
Backed up with menace proves unsettling.
Enter OLMEDO, SANDOVAL, and AGUILAR.
SANDOVAL
Now, wayward beadsman, meet our strategist.
CORTÉS
Who is this Indian? Where’s our long-lost priest?
AGUILAR
Hail, Christian knights! Sweet accents of Castile!
CORTÉS
Great welcome, cabined friar, you are free!
AGUILAR
Is it a Wednesday?
OLMEDO It’s the Lord’s day, friend.
AGUILAR
Of course it is! Grace to the only God!
My only link with Europe, all these years,
Has been to count the crawling calendar.
CORTÉS
We’ll need your past, to learn their policies.
AGUILAR
I wish I could. But of their etiquette
I’m ignorant, save slavish drudgery.
CORTÉS
You speak the language, though?
AGUILAR Why, like a native.
CORTÉS
Your name?
AGUILAR Gerónimo de Aguilar.
OLMEDO
Dear Aguilar! Your mother, home in Spain,
On hearing you’d been snatched by cannibals,
Abstained from meat, and cringed at frying flesh,
For fear, by chance, it might be part of you.
AGUILAR
Oh, rush me home to Écija, back where
The only blood drunk is the wine of Christ,
The only flesh consumed, our sacrament.
CORTÉS
What fate befell your fellow countrymen?
AGUILAR
The luckless women were harassed to death,
The men, dishearted. But a happy few
Broke from our cages and were spared for slaves,
Within the warlike clutch of Na Chan Can.
My freedom have your wax and honey bought.
One stubborn soul, Guerrero, stays behind.
From my play in verse, thefloralwar.com
